


Four Shots

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Marking, Missionary Position, Possessive Behavior, Riding, Roughness, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-15 04:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a few PWP ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Shots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lannisnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannisnow/gifts).



 

**I**

Isaac's favorite position, even better than having Stiles ride him, is when he can get Stiles on his back.

It sounds vanilla at first, but there's just something about getting Stiles so open and exposed, arms pinned over his head, that feels so primal. When he has Stiles legs locked around his hips and his neck straining as Isaac pushes inside of him, slowly, so he can savor the stretch and burn of it, it's so easy to get lost in it; to trace his tongue up Stiles' stomach, toy with his nipples until they're hard, then nibble a path up Stiles' chest and over his collarbones.

And the higher his mouth climbs, the more strength he puts in his thrusts.

It doesn't take much for either of them to get worked up, hormones and all that, but Stiles is always the louder and more eager. He bucks his hips and whines, isn't ashamed to offer up his neck because for as much as Isaac teases, both he and Stiles know that once Isaac gets his lips on Stiles’s neck things won't last much longer.

Nails dig in and movements grow rougher, but Isaac doesn't bite down-- it was one of the many rules Derek set for the pack-- not even with his human teeth, no matter how much he wants to. He fights the urge and his own orgasm back until Stiles comes all over himself and goes limp. When Stiles is finally pliant, Isaac fucks him hard, while he's still sensitive, until he's gasping and begging, and it’s only when Stiles starts babbling from over-stimulation that Isaac lets himself come.

**II**

As much as Isaac likes making a mess of Stiles and drilling him into the nearest surface, he has to admit that he really does love the days when Stiles is pissed off (at him, or Derek, or Scott, or their asshole of a chemistry teacher, it doesn’t really matter) and comes storming up the stairs to his room and slams the door with purpose.

Times like that, Isaac has learned to drop anything in hand, but sometimes he enjoys pretending to be engrossed in a book, just so he can watch the way Stiles’ eyes flash when he grabs it and throws it across the room.

The main reason why he likes manhandling an angry Stiles has less to do with the thrum of feeling Isaac is practically absorbing, more to do with the way Stiles is almost frenzied as he pops buttons and tugs on clothes. Most times, they end up too crazed to do more than pop a few buttons and grind off against each other; sometimes, though, Isaac manages to draw it out long enough to get Stiles naked and bearing down on him, his face flushed red as he rides out his anger on Isaac’s cock.

No matter how naked they end up, there are always marks from where Stiles’s nails dug in a bit too deep, or marks from where he bit a little too hard as he came. Isaac lets him go wild, even encourages him for more when it feels like he’s hesitating-- because Isaac may have been abused, but he’s a survivor, and he’s strong enough that no amount of rough sex will hurt him.

So he lets Stiles set the pace until Stiles is jerking himself off with desperate noises, and the minute he finishes coating Isaac’s stomach in white Isaac flips them over and fucks him slowly, coaxing Stiles down from the frustration and anger he keeps bottled, and then spilling inside of him with a low groan when Stiles stares up at him through glazed eyes.

**III**

Isaac is enjoying a slow yet rough time with Stiles bent over his dresser when Stiles let out a strange moan. If it hadn’t been for the way Stiles froze, tightening around him and making him jerk, Isaac probably would've dismissed it as a jumble of syllables.

As is, he slows his pace, ignoring Stiles’s protests, until he finally picks apart enough babble to realize that the moan had been of _Derek's name,_ and something hot spikes through him.

Stiles's not-so-secret arousal for Derek is something so extremely obvious about Stiles that it became a small part of his personality in Isaac's mind-- a lot like the obsession with Lydia-- and, hell, even Isaac had to admit that if Derek offered he'd be more than willing to go for it with the alpha. Isaac's never had any kind of problem with it.

Until now.

Now, there's a spark of anger, surging up into a feeling of possessiveness that's licking at his skin like fire. When he pulls out, Stiles starts to pick himself up off the dresser, trying some kind of explanation, but Isaac isn't in the mood to hear him talk anymore.

Stiles lets out a startled, gasping moan when Isaac slams him against the wall and tugs up a leg so he can slip back inside. When Stiles recovers enough to open his mouth, Isaac hauls him up, Stiles's legs around Isaac's waist, and does it again, this time hard enough to rattle the door.

"Isaac--"

"Shut the hell up, Stiles," Isaac says, lipping at Stiles's ear, the words rumbling through him like growing thunder. Privately, Isaac had to admit that even he was a little surprised with how gruff he sounded, his voice pitching down to a low growl.

Isaac doesn't notice how hard he's fucking Stiles against the wall until a book topples off the shelves in Stiles's closet, and even then it doesn't matter. None of it matters until Stiles claws at his back and comes between them, untouched, practically screaming from it, no trace of Derek's name left on his lips.

**IV**

Most of their sex is fast-paced, quick and rushed, sometimes because of the thrum of adrenaline pulsing through them after a fight but mostly because there just isn't enough patience in either of them. They're both young, and with the world they've permanently injected themselves into living fast and dying young is a more hopeful outlook than any other option available. They have to live in the present with all that they have because sometimes there doesn’t seem much of a future for them to look forward to.

Sometimes, though, on rare and random occasions, they manage to slow down.

Mouths take unexpected detours, tracing the sharp jut of a hipbone or curling a tongue over hardening nipples, and hands tease as they stroke and pad out new areas to raise the occasional gasp to a low moan. Isaac is still rough, not quite used to his own strength yet, and the bed creaks ominously with every thrust; but Stiles savors every mark that he can see in the bathroom mirror the next morning.

When they come, it's a rush of everything and not even the sharp sting of nails or teeth register as anything more than just another spike of pleasure.

It's always intense.

But it's never together.


End file.
